


The Prince's Concubine

by Prince_Micah



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Concubines, Corruption, Drug Use, Multi, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex Slave, this is probably supposed to be tagged as explicit isn't it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Micah/pseuds/Prince_Micah
Summary: Being a royal concubine opens the door to power and wealth, something even the most humble girl cannot resist.When Marinette ran away from home to work in the palace as a maid, never did she imagine she would end up being a royal concubine, being lusted over by the most eligible princes in all of Paris. But the life of a concubine proves to be more than pleasure and luxuries,and as Marinette rises in favor, she begins to find betrayal and danger at every corner.Especially when she begins falling for young royals, Adrien Agreste and Luka Couffaine, two princes embroiled in a deadly race for the throne, and both desperate to own Marinette.*** 7/27/19 Rewritten in 3rd person ***





	1. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette runaways to The Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** 7/27/19 I've rewritten this chapter in 3rd person, so please forgive me for missing some errors from the perspective switch ***
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this story. It takes place in a French Revolution inspired time period. This content will be explicit, read at your own risk.

* * *

Marinette hated to admit, but she had grown content with her life.

She had long accepted that her days would be filled taking orders and helping her parents bake in the shop. After all, they were lucky to own the shop and be able to live off of it to stay afloat. But even with their luck, they still had to do multiple odd jobs around the city to survive and help keep the store running. It wasn’t the most ideal circumstance, but living off of the little bakery was impossible with most of the people living in Paris barely able to afford a loaf of bread. Somehow they managed, and she had hope one day we would live comfortably.

However, never did she imagine that she would hear this from her parents.

“You’re… closing the _shop_?” she choked out, stunned.

Her parents—her father especially-- looked completely defeated. Years of working hard for a barely livable wage had taken a toll on them both. They looked exhausted, and now, the light in their eyes were completely extinguished.

Her papa nodded, closing his eyes. “The king has increased taxes—again. At this point, it is either we go hungry or lose the bakery. There is no way we can stay alive and keep the shop.”

Marinette felt a lump form in her throat, unsure how to react. They were seated by the fireplace, their sole source of warmth during this chilly Fall evening. Their home, which resided above the shop, was a mere single living room that her parents and she used as a bedroom, but also, where they ate meals. Privacy was a foreign concept in their home.

“So what now?” she said softly, looking down.

Her mama answered this time; “We will have to move. Perhaps get a job on a farm. If we’re lucky, we could find a landowner who will let us live on the land in exchange for labor, while we save a bit of money.” Her tone was light, like she was attempting to convince them that this would be a great opportunity. But with her parents already so worn out, Marinette wasn’t sure if adding fourteen hours of labor on a farm would truly be best.

She shook her head, “No,” and the tears began to well in her eyes.

My father reached out to touch his daughter's shoulder, but she simply brushed his hand away. “Marinette… It’ll be alright.”

“No.” she repeated again, stronger. “There has to be another way. I could-- I could get another job! I could work in The Palace, and make enough money in a _week_ —"

“Absolutely not.” her father said coldly. His tone was unusual for her typically easy-going father, but whenever she brought up jobs that required herto work in The Palace, he became completely defensive. Marinette understood why, he only wanted her to be safe… but she couldn’t bare the thought of them losing everything when there were other options.

Her mother gently put her hand on her husband's shoulder, and looked at her daughter with sad eyes. “I’m sorry Marinette, I know this is hard, but you working in The Palace is the most dangerous thing possible right now. We’ll work through this,” she glanced at her father and daughter, giving them both warm smiles. “Together.”

This seemed to put Marinette's father at ease, and he too smiled.

And just like that, it seemed to be decided: The Dupain-Cheng family would sell the shop, move out to the countryside, and work as laborers.

Only Marinette refused to accept this fate.

* * *

It was early morning the following day when the solution to all of the Dupain-Cheng's problems arrived in the form of Monsieur Pigeon.

“M. Pigeon, good morning!” Marinette greeted as brightly as possible. Although she was happy to see the regular customer, the sadness she felt was practically tangible.

Marinette had been removing the fresh bread from the stone oven, when he came in. Her father was out making deliveries around town, while her mother was in the back room, mixing more dough before the morning rush came in.

M. Pigeon, a slender man with a big, angled nose, came in holstering a wooden basket in one arm. “Marinette! How are you today?” he greeted back with a smile, removing his hat.

“I’m alright,” she said, her smile tight. “Here for the usual pick up?”

His brow furrowed, and he ignored her question. “Are you sure?”

She nodded and looked away, “Just a little tired.”

“Hmm, you seem a little down today.” M. Pigeon commented. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just been working late.” Marinette laughed sheepishly. For some reason it was hard to muster the truth. Maybe somewhere in the back of her mind she was hoping selling the shop was not the only solution. “The usual right?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” He gave her a smile, but appeared unconvinced, nevertheless.

She had his order ready on a nearby shelf: six loaves of sweet bread, fresh and still warm. For as long as she could remember, this is what he came to purchase every morning. Marinette was happy that something was remaining the same.

“Alright, you’re all good to go!” she said, after packing up the bread gently in the basket. “How has everything been with the pigeons?”

“Good, good. The family I work for let’s me care for them, as well as all the other animals on their estate.”

Oh. That was right. M. Pigeon worked in The Palace. “How’s that like?”

“The animals? They’re great!” he gestured to the breadbasket. “Some of them really love the bread your family makes. I’m thinking about convincing the family I work for on bringing in some rats into the estate.”

The black haired teen couldn’t help but to laugh a bit imagining ‘royal rats’ being kept as pets in The Palace. “No, I meant working in The Palace. How is it like?”

“ _Ooh_ , it’s very nice, actually. Busy, but not too stressful. The pay is great, and they provide lodging.”

Marinette fidgeted with her dirty apron slightly, unsure what to say next. Unsure exactly why she was even asking him. She _knew_ her parents would never let her see the palace walls, let alone, _work_ there. “That’s amazing, really.” She said looking towards the back door to make sure her mother wasn’t coming. “Um, h-how’d you get a job like that? Must’ve been hard.”

M. Pigeon shook his head a bit. “Not really. I had a friend who already worked there, and when you know someone, they can talk to a supervisor for you and land you a job easy. But I suppose if you don’t know someone, it could take some time.”

“Oh,” was all she said. Marinette had to bite back her tongue to prevent herself from asking more questions.

M. Pigeon looked at the young girl, and his eyes widened a bit. “Are _you_ looking for a job in The Palace?” he seemed completely surprised.

She shot a look at the backdoor again. “Uh, no, no!” M. Pigeon’s face fell a bit, the shock completely gone. Marinette chewed her lip nervously, debating in her head on if she should tell him or not. After one more glance to see if her mama was coming, the word vomit came out. “Uh--! Butlet’ssayIdidwantajobthere,couldyouhelpme?”

The shock returned to his face, but he shook it off and gave her an encouraging smile. “A job? I could definitely speak to the supervisor tonight for you.”

“Really?” she said, beaming. “Oh thank you! Thank you!”

He chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. I wouldn’t be able to get you a job with my family though, we’re completely staffed.”

Her face fell a bit, but then perked up in curiosity. “But where would I work then?”

“Well, ‘The Palace’ is just where all those of nobility live. Each family has their own estate, their own staff to care for them, and their own needs. So, the supervisor would place you with the family that needs someone the most. Right now, they’re hiring a lot of maids and kitchen staff, which would be perfect for you, I think. Plus, if they give you a contract, you get a bonus.”

This completely brightened Marinette's mood; baking was easy, she could surely astound them with her skills and make them love her cooking. But the signing bonus was what really convinced her; The Palace workers were already fairly well paid, and were provided with room and board. The bonus could be used to pay off the bakery’s debt, and her paychecks could be sent to her parents to maintain things. Without her living at home, her parents would even have a little bit more money on them to spend! They would finally be living a life where they wouldn’t have to work as hard.

A life they deserved.

“Do you want me to ask my supervisor today for you?” M. Pigeon asked.

Marinette inhaled a sharp breath of air before nodding. “Yes, please—”

“Marinette!” her mama called from the backroom.

She felt her blood go cold, and quickly turned to M. Pigeon to grab his shirt collar, drawing him close to her face. “Please don’t tell my mother—or my father either!” she whispered in a hushed voiced. “Please, they can’t know.”

He seemed taken aback and opened his mouth like he wanted to know more, but quickly shut it as her mother emerged from the backroom, her hands covered in flour. Marinette immediately let him go, and backed away from him, as if nothing had occurred.

“Mari—oh! M. Pigeon, good morning.” She greeted with a soft smile, as she made her way around the register. “How are you today?”

M. Pigeon cleared his throat, “G-good, uh, Marinette here was just…” he gave the girl a quick look. “just asking me about pigeons. She’s taken an interest in them already at a young age! Much like me.”

Her mother looked at her daughter, surprised, but Marinette simply gave her a big, innocent smile. “Yep! Pigeons are just fascinating.”

Confused, the woman simply nodded, as if she understood her daughter. “That’s great. Are you heading out now?”

“Yes, I should be going now.” He said, looking at his watch. “I will see you all tomorrow.” M. Pigeon gave me a long look. “I’ll let you know more about the _pigeons_ tomorrow Marinette.”

“I can’t wait,” Marinette said, with a forced smile, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

When he was gone, her mother turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Pigeons, Marinette?”

The girl shrugged and laughed nervously. “Just wanted to be polite and build rapport with our customers.”

She couldn’t suspect Marinette's plan, not until she heard back from M. Pigeon and could make her final decision. But Marinette was already 100% certain this was the way out of their circumstances.

She went on about her day, but her mind was full of thoughts about The Palace. If M. Pigeon actually got her the job there, her life would change drastically. However, Marinette knew she could never tell her parents. Not only were her parents strongly against the royal family, but they felt all the nobles were corrupted as well, and basking in luxury while the French people were starving in the streets. Her father would rather sell the bakery a hundred times over than allow his wife or daughter to work for them.

In addition to all the corruption, working in The Palace was just dangerous. If you didn’t keep to yourself and mind your own business, you could easily get sucked into a scandal and be punished for things you did not do.

After all, it was easier to blame a lowly servant than a King.

Marinette's parents were fast asleep on the cot next to her, but the girl was still up reading by candlelight. Electricity was not a luxury they could afford, but she imagined The Palace was lit up all hours of the day with bright lights. She tried to push her thoughts of The Palace aside, because it was becoming slightly obsessive, but she found no solace in focusing on the book she could barely read. Marinette's reading and writing comprehension was greatly limited due to never going to school. Frustrated, she shut the book and pushed it to the side, and flopped onto her back.

Looking at the dark ceiling, she listened to her father's snores and the wind billowing against the roof, causing the home to make a noise of protest. The combined sounds were surprisingly calming. It made me feel safe and comfortable, familiar. However, she knew this safety would soon be gone if she didn’t find a way into that palace.

Marinette looked over at her parents, curled up under a thin, ratty, wool sheet, and felt complete guilt with the fact that she was planning on leaving them if given the chance. There was no way she could tell them where she was, that would hurt them so much. Running away was no better, but it was better than facing them. She was a coward for that, a horrible daughter.

But Marinette would make it up to them. Somehow.

In one brisk movement, she sat up, and blew out the candle.

* * *

M. Pigeon arrived bright and early the following day for his usual pick up. As Marinette took the basket to fill up with bread, her mama chatted it up with him. With her being here, it was impossible to ask him if he’d spoken to his supervisor. Marinette kept looking at him from the corner of her eye to see if he’d try to signal her something, but he never looked in her direction.

Marinette sighed softly and opened the basket. She figured she'd have wait until the following day to follow up with him—

She looked down into the basket, stiffened, and felt my body go numb. The basket was not empty as it normally was. Inside the bottom of the basket was a small folded sheet of paper. Her breath sucked in, as she looked quickly over her shoulder to make sure her mother wasn’t watching. She wasn’t.

Without missing a beat, Marinette shoved the note into my front apron pocket and quickly filled up the basket with bread. “All ready!” she said cheerily, bringing it to the counter.

M. Pigeon nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Marinette. I’ll see you _tomorrow_.”

Marinette and her mama waved him away, and when he was gone, her mother went back to the back room to mix more dough. The moment she was alone, Marinette removed the note from her front apron, and with shaky fingers, worked on unfolding it. When it was unfolded her eyes raced quickly across it, taking it in. Her reading skills were not amazing, but she thought she understood most everything:

_Meet me at dawn by the lamppost corner. Pack everything you need._

“Marinette?” her mother’s voice said from behind her, causing Marinette to jump and a small yelp emerged from her.

The girl quickly crumpled up the note in her fist, and spun around. “Mama,” Her tone was completely off, too high pitched.

The woman looked at her daughter and blinked, smiling a bit. “Is everything alright? You’ve been awfully jumpy lately.”

Marinette nodded and laughed nervously. “I’m alright! Did you need anything?”

She shook her head and walked closer. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know the talk we had the other day was…” she grimaced. “Not what any of us wanted. But I just want you to know we’ll be alright, and we have to stay strong for your father.”

“Don’t worry mama, I’m okay.” Marinette insisted.

Her mother smiled at the girl, and wrapped be in a warm embrace. “Of course you are, my brave little girl. What would I do without you?” her voice was muffled in her daughter's shoulder.

Ugh, why did it feel like her mother knew just when to use those words to fill Marinette with guilt? She felt even worse hugging her back, because if she was reading M. Pigeon’s note correctly, she had been offered a job in _The_ _Palace_. If she met him at dawn, there was no turning back now. Marinette continued to hug her mother as a strange feeling of guilt, uncertainty, and excitement began to rise from her chest.

**xXx**

Waking up before dawn was no problem for Marinette, because she couldn’t even sleep.

Marinette couldn’t shut her mind off, and thoughts raced through her head in circles, keeping her alert until morning. Everything was happening so fast, she wasn’t sure if she was even making the right decision anymore. All Marinette knew is that she felt like it was too late to back down. M. Pigeon had done her a great favor, and this was an opportunity like no other. Yes… she was sacrificing her parents for a bit, but it’d only be for a few months. Just until they had enough saved for aseveral months to come.

As Marinette got up, she had to avoid looking at her parents who were sleeping soundly at the neighboring cot. If she looked at them, she knew she’d feel guilt. Doubt. She couldn’t risk any negative feelings at a time like this, so she just looked the other direction as she crept out of her make-shift bed and to the corner. Sitting by the corner was a large bowl of water and a tattered cloth that they used to clean up. As quickly as the girl could, she dampened the cloth and wiped her face and neck down to get as clean as possible.

Marinette stared at her reflection in the muddy water, the rising sun seeping through the window as her only source of light. It was strange looking at herself; when had she gotten so… _defeated_? Her blue eyes seemed dim, tired, hopeless. Her lips were chapped—she licked them instinctively – she needed water. With a soft sigh, Marinette bunched up her black hair in a ponytail and tied it with a ribbon scrap. Underneath her night gown, she had on the only pair of trousers she owned and her cleanest white button up blouse. Already dressed, all she had to do was pack my bag.

Her satchel was already fairly small, and could not fit much, so she could only bring limited items. Marinette settled on one more blouse, a dress, and her night gown. It would have to do with rotation between those outfits, in addition to a handful of undergarments she stuffed inside the satchel. Packing up my bag was not a difficult task, as all her clothes were neatly folded on a chair, waiting to be placed inside the wardrobe. She had purposely delayed putting them in the wardrobe during the evening, so she wouldn’t have to risk waking her parents up with opening it.

With her bag ready, Marinette reached into her pocket and removed a note. This was a note she had prepared for her parents as soon as they had fallen asleep. It was pitiful way to say goodbye anyone, let alone her parents who had done nothing but love her. It didn’t tell them where she’d gone, but she was sure they would figure it out. She kissed the note, and shut her eyes, feeling the tears well up. With a shaky breath, Marinette placed the note on the table, and descended the stairs softly, never looking at her parents once.

For some reason, it seemed as if the stairs knew she was doing something sneaky, because no matter how quietly she moved, they seemed to squeak and groan louder than ever. Each step caused her to freeze and look over her shoulder to make sure her parents hadn’t awoken. Just the thought of them waking up and catching her was enough to send her heart into a frenzy. Somehow, Marinette miraculously made it down the stairs without them catching her, but she was pretty sure her heart was ready to give out.

The shop seemed dreary as she got ready to walk out. But for some reason, something drew her to behind the counters. Before Marinette could even think, her hands robotically began taking spices: cinnamon, sugar, vanilla—anything she could get her hands on—and placed them in her bag. She made sure to take only the ones that were almost empty, that way her parents could use the fresh, new ones. With her bag filled with spices and whatever clothes she could fit inside, she put on her brown loafers that sat near the backroom, unlocked the front door, and walked out into the crisp morning air.

The streets were deserted, which was good—no witnesses. The lamppost that M. Pigeon was referring too was just down the street, a corner intersection. There was no confusing it. Marinette still had his note in her pocket, and patted it to double check it was still there.

She wasn’t sure how she managed to get to the lamp post, her mind seemed to disassociate from her body the moment she left the shop. Nevertheless, her legs carried her in a slight sprint through the empty streets. Only the echo of her feet filled the alley way. The lamppost was only a block away, but since she was running, by the time she arrived, she was out of breath. She hunched over gasping, trying to get as much of the cool air through her mouth as possible.

“Marinette?”

The voice brought her back to reality, and she quickly snapped up and looked for the source of the voice. “M. Pigeon?” It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t. There he was, standing about a yard away her. Behind him was a horse drawn wagon filled with hay.

“Are you alright?” he asked alarmed.

Marinette nodded quickly and cleared her throat. “Yes, just a little…” she looked off into the distance, in the direction of her home and the shop, before shaking her head. “A little tired.”

He seemed to buy my excuse, but still looked concerned. “We should go then; we can talk more while on the ride.”

Marinette's grip tightened on her satchel, as butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. The excitement and nerves were all returning, the guilt was quickly dissipating. As she stared at M. Pigeon, she saw her escape and her future awaiting her. Never in her life did she think that her, a poor baker’s daughter, would enter The Palace. This thought brought her more excitement than anything.

Excitement, but also terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed chapter 1, please let me know if you want more and I will see you all at the next chapter! :)


	2. Untouched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette arrives at The Palace untouched, but begins to realize she will be nothing more than an object there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many apologies for not updating this sooner! I hope there are still people who are interested in this story as I plan to update this weekly :)

* * *

The sharp sound of the wagon wheel clicking against a stone was what awoke Marinette, causing her to jerk up suddenly, and look around blearily at the brightening sky. Fidgeting from the scratchy hay that prodded at her sides, she tried unsuccessfully to find some comfort and hugged her small satchel from warmth. She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, or even _how_ , considering how jittery was still feeling. Right now her body yearned for her old makeshift cot that would have been warmed by the fireplace in the single room she had shared with her parents.

“We’re almost there.”

M. Pigeon’s voice came softly, drawing the girl's attention to the older man who was seated on a pile of hay, staring off into the distance. They had left so early, that the sun had not even risen completely, and something about the fog from the emerging dawn seemed to make the girl more at ease with the reality that she was entering unknown territory. 

Marinette looked around and saw that the silhouette of stone walls and an iron gate was slowly forming through the fog. She felt entirely alert now, and her breath hitched as the wagon began to slow to a bumpy stop. Two armed guards approached the driver of the wagon, and exchanged brisk words.

“We’ll separate now, I have to head back into the city to pick up bread from your parents or else they will suspect something.” M. Pigeon whispered quickly to the girl, grimacing slightly, as he realized for the first time that he would have to face the girl’s parents shortly after they had just discovered her missing. “Follow the guards, they will bring you to a supervisor and get you settled in.”

It finally dawned on Marinette that she’d be alone from this moment on. This thought sent her into a slight panic. “Is there any way you could come with me, please?” she felt like a whiny child, and at seventeen, she really shouldn’t be acting this way in front of someone who had just gotten her such a job in _The Palace_ , but she didn’t care. She was scared to be alone with these guards who had weapons and looked upset from her mere existence

M. Pigeon gave Marinette a reassuring smile and whispered lowly. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll come visit you as soon as I can. Good luck.”

And just like that, it was final: She would be going with the guards. Alone.

Marinette slowly lowered herself down from out of the wagon, and before she could even wave goodbye, let alone _glance_ at M. Pigeon, one of the guards came from up behind her and began pushing her through the large iron gates. She attempted to twist back, but his grip was firm on her slender arms, and continued to lead her inside. 

The sound of the gates shutting from behind her was the closest sound to goodbye she would ever receive.

Marinette was led down a hallway that appeared to be made out of some sort of stone. Everything was dimly lit, and she stumbled a lot, partly from still being disoriented from just waking up, and but also due to the fact that the guard behind her was pushing her rather aggressively. The one leading the way made big strides, ones she could not keep up with. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of where she might be going.

Finally the guard in front of her turned into a room with a door already ajar. Marinette was thrusted inside, nearly crashing on the ground, as he shut the door behind her with a slam. When she managed to regain her balance, Marinette frantically looked around the room, panicked as to where they had brought her. However, inside the room was just a small table with a pile of clothes on it, and a woman sitting at a chair behind it. Aside from that, the room was bare, and even the curtains on the windows were drawn, giving the room an ominous aura.

“Where… where am I?” Marinette asked, looking around, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in the small room. She clutched her satchel instinctively.

“Check in,” the woman said with a small smile. She was lovely with her red-brown hair in an elegant bun and wide green eyes. She wore a light blue dress with teal accents. “We’ll inspect you, ask you a few questions, and when you’re cleared, you’ll be given your contract, a bed, and then you can begin working.” The woman said this all without missing a beat; it was clear she’d done this many times.

“Oh,” the black haired girl said slowly, unsure how to respond. This was all so new to her, and she honestly wasn’t sure what to anticipate from The Palace.

“Excellent; then we will begin. My name is Mme Bustier, Supervisor of the Tsurugi Estate.” she said with a soft smile.

In one swift movement, the guard behind Marinette yanked out her hair ribbon, and the girl’s shoulder length hair fell all over her face. “Hey!” she protested, pulling away from the large man. The other guard went for her satchel and emptied the contents on the table. Marinette watched, heart racing, eyes wide, as her array of spices rolled out and off the table, clattering to the ground. The sounds echoed in the room.

Marinette felt dizzy.

“What is your name?”

“Mari-Marinette.” she stuttered as the guard looked through her hair for God knows _what_. “Is this really necessary?” she asked, mainly to herself as the guard rubbed his hands through her hair, down her neck, and around her shoulders.

“Yes, of course. We cannot have you next to the royal families without inspecting you. Now, Marinette, what is your family name? Do you _have_ any family?”

“Ye—” Marinette stopped short. “No. It’s only me. It’s just Marinette.”

For some reason, a voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to not let them know about her parents. She wouldn’t get them involved in this, no, this was all on her. If anything went wrong, she at least wanted to protect them.

Mme Bustier looked up from the papers in front of her, and stared hard at Marinette. The girl swallowed nervously under the older woman’s gaze, a gaze that obviously didn’t believe her response. Before Mme Bustier could ask anymore, the guard yanked open Marinette’s blouse, the buttons popping off the fabric, and tumbling on the ground.

Marinette gasped and quickly wrapped her thin arms across her chest in a pitiful attempt to cover herself, her face going completely red. “ _What are you doing_?!” Marinette cried in disbelief.

No one answered her. The guard simply grabbed her arms, and forced them away from her chest and down at her sides.

“Don’t fight, Marinette. This is simply standard procedure.” Mme Bustier said in a tight voice, her gaze giving nothing away.

“ _Standard procedure?_ ” Marinette mimicked in disbelief, trying unsuccessfully to cover herself again.

“Yes.” Mme Bustier answered, with the same controlled tone. “Could you tell me what drew you to The Palace?”

Marinette’s mind was completely shut down as she felt the guard’s rough hand running across her skin. Brushing against her shoulders, her collar bones. Running against the thin cloth that made up her undergarments, and inching down her stomach. Her cheeks were burning in anger and embarrassment, and she could feel the tears springing up in her eyes as this man explored her body.

She tried to find the answer to the woman’s question, but couldn’t think clearly with this strange man’s hands now resting at the place where her pants fastened. The only thought that filled her mind were of her parents who probably were awake now..

Marinette swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and answered through clenched teeth. “For a better future.”

Mme Bustier stopped smiling and looked at the girl, a look of what almost appeared to be pain flashed on her face. “Let her take off her pants and shoes.” Was all she said.

The guard backed off, and Marinette slipped out of her pants and shoes, without a word. With only her undergarments on, the guard continued to search her body, while the second guard checked all of her belongings. Mme Bustier continued to ask her questions, but none of them registered, and Marinette kept her head down the entire time, her hair covering her face.

The violating hands crept closer towards the girl’s more intimate region, and Marinette tensed up, her head jerking up immediately.

“You don’t have to check there,” Mme Bustier said quickly. “She seems harmless enough.” She quickly wrote something down. “Alright Marinette, you’re cleared. Please change into these, and you’ll find another set on your bed once we arrive to the maids quarters. We have a strict dress code you have to adhere by, you’ll find a manual in your room. If you want more than two sets, you’ll have to buy them with your own allowance, so take good care of them.”

A guard threw the stack of clothes into Marinette’s arms, and the girl stumbled back, barely catching them. Marinette couldn’t make eye contact with any of them in the room, and focused intently at the uniform that seemed to consist of a scratchy white blouse, a brown jumper dress, and wool, white tights.

“Your allowance is paid at the end of each week,” Mme Bustier continued. “This is your contract,” she pushed the sheet close to Marinette, who still stood half dressed and unmoved in the middle of the room. “It outlines your expectations as a palace maid. You will work from dawn to dusk, but also be available at all hours of the day. You will follow all palace regulations, and not disclose _any_ palace information to those outside the palace walls. And of course no inappropriate relationships with the royal families… but you seem fairly _sensible_. I doubt this will be a problem.”

Marinette peered down at the contract that she could not read. She already felt mentally exhausted from that intrusive experience, which didn’t help with her limited reading ability. Some words here and there-- common words-- were easy to decipher. But the bigger words seemed to almost be in a foreign language.

“Mme Bustier…” she said timidly, hugging the uniform tightly at her chest. “I’m sorry. I cannot understand the contract.”

The older woman, however, did not seem surprised by this. “You can’t read?” it was a question, but didn’t sound like one.

Marinette shook her head. “Only basic things. But these words are…” _Confusing_. Half of these words she was positive she’d never once used in her life.

Mme Bustier pushed the pen and paper closer to the girl. “No worries, there’s nothing in this contract worth reading. Just know at the end of the month, your work will be evaluated, and if you have done well thus far, you will be awarded the bonus and given a new, year-long contract and no longer be an apprentice, but a full fledged palace maid.”

Marinette stared long at the contract, toying with the pen. She knew if her papa were here, he’d never encourage her to sign a contract without fully knowing what she was signing off on. But even if she didn’t agree with what she was signing, could she even back down now? She’d left home for this, there was no turning back now. Her parents had probably awoken already, noticed her absence, and probably thought Marinette had gone downstairs to the shop to get an early start. Only to find when they went down, their daughter would be nowhere to be found. She had made this decision and could not turn back now.

“Marinette,” the sound of her name brought the girl from her thoughts. She stared at Mme Bustier, who tapped the contract impatiently with a smile. “Don’t think too hard. Trust me, girls who come in here believing they can ‘think’ their way through The Palace never last.”

Marinette had just been _humiliated_ by the guards and in front of Mme Bustier just to have this job. At this point, even if she could read it, did she really care what was written in it? She just wanted everything to be over. Without another hesitation, Marinette scribbled a signature at the bottom of the contract. Mme Bustier quickly collected the sheet of paper,and stood up beaming at the girl. “Excellent. Welcome to The Palace.”

But why did it feel like Marinette had just signed over her _life_?

* * *

By the time the guard, Mme Bustier, and Marinette reached the maids quarters, the teenage girl was positive her feet would fall off. Every hallway was gray and dimly lit, and only the sounds of feet hitting the floor echoed against the walls. She wasn’t exactly sure in which area of The Palace she was in, but after walking down hallway after hallway, each constructed in what resembled connecting tunnels, they finally entered a different area. 

This new area had cream colored walls and brighter lighting, making the area seem less like a dungeon. Soon, even a few people were seen milling around this new area: all women, dressed similarly to Marinette in some sort of white blouse, with various dresses in neutral colors. Some women also had white hair wraps covering the majority of their hair as well.

Mme Bustier led Marinette to a room, one with dozens of bunk-beds, a few wardrobes, bedside tables, and a crackling fireplace. The fire did little to alleviate the cold, and the furniture was chipped and old, but this was the closest place she’d seen resemble a living area since arriving. “This is where you’ll sleep, over here is your bed.” Mme Bustier gestured over to the top bunk in the far corner. Folded bed linen sat on the bed for Marinette to make.

Although the maid’s quarters were empty, one girl stood by Marinette’s bunk bed. She was young, around Marinette’s age, with tawny colored skin, red-brown hair, and thickly rimmed glasses. She wore a thick shawl draped lightly over her shoulders, covering her white blouse and maid jumper. As they approached her, the girl bowed slightly.

“Mme Bustier,” the girl greeted, her head still bowed down.

“Alya,” Mme Bustier said warmly. “This is Marinette; she’ll be your apprentice for the month. Please make sure she learns all the ropes; I’m counting on you.” She then turned to Marinette. “Make sure you listen to Alya. She’ll teach you everything you need to be a successful palace maid.”

The two girls nodded, and looked at each other. A rush of relief washed over Marinette in that moment, _finally_ , someone her age. Not Mme Bustier or intrusive guards. Satisfied with the introduction, Mme Bustier made her exit with the guard, leaving the two girls alone. The moment she was gone, Alya turned and gave Marinette a quick lookover. 

“I’m Alya, this is your first day right?” she asked. Marinette gave her a slow nod, and Ayla gave her a leveled look, with the faintest smile. “Try to keep up.”

Without uttering another word, the brunette turned swiftly on her heels and began striding away. Marinette blinked, surprised, but quickly hurried after her.

Marinette didn't know what she had been expecting upon entering The Palace, but she had thought she’d be given _at least_ a moment to breathe and familiarize herself before working. But that had been a silly, wistful thought. Of course they wouldn’t give her a chance to rest, this was _The Palace_ , and Marinette was just an object for them only there to work.

“Marinette, are you listening?”

The ebony haired girl blinked, coming out of her thoughts and realizing for the first time that Ayla had stopped walking and was waving her hand at her face to catch her attention. “Uh, sorry…” she said sheepishly, feeling the blood prick at her cheeks.

Ayla opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shut it and kept walking. “You have to stay alert here. You have to always be on your toes.”

“Why do you say that?”

The other girl didn’t answer her. “Are you familiar with the royal families?” Ayla asked instead, not turning back to see whether Marinette was following her or not.

“Not really, I’ve heard _of_ them--”

“You’ll have to be. Make sure you read the Palace Protocol book on your bed tonight.” The other girl shot her a quick glance. “We are maids for the Tsurugi Household, and as my apprentice, your work is a direct reflection of _my_ work.”

 _Tsurugi_. Marinette had heard of their family name before, but wasn’t sure exactly what power they held and who were members of their family. 

“How many households are there in The Palace?”

“Seven,” Ayla responded, automatically, almost as if she was anticipating this question. “Tsurugi. Kubdel. Kurtzberg. Lahiffe. Rossi. Couffaine, and …”

Each name she said rang with power in the hall, sending chills down Marinette’s spine.

“And?” Marinette said softly.

Ayla stopped walking, and paused for the longest moment. “ _Agreste_.”

They were no longer in the maids quarters, but instead now in the Tsurugi Estate. Somehow, all the back tunnels connected the maids quarters to the main house. The house they were in now was exquisitely decorated, with paintings on every wall, thick velvet curtains on every window, and even the wood on floors shined like oil had been painted onto them. The color scheme of the house was nothing like Marinette had seen before. Everything was of a black or deep burgundy color, from the walls, to the light fixtures, to even the doors. The entire atmosphere of the estate seemed… dark, depressing even, and it didn’t help that all the curtains were drawn, and dragon designs were imprinted on almost every piece of decoration.

It felt so dreary in here. Exquisite. Elegant. But dreary.

“It’s so dark in here…” Marinette murmured to herself.

Ayla stopped short in tracks and turned sharply to Marinette, giving her a hard stare that made Marinette bite her tongue and look down immediately. “The Tsurugi’s only daughter, Lady Kagami, is often ill. She was a sickly child, and now as she has gotten older, she’s only gotten weaker. She can’t be exposed to bright lights or else it’ll trigger migraines, so we have to keep everything dark. She barely can stomach any food without throwing it right back up, so we have to be careful with her food preparations. She can’t be exposed to any dust either, or else she will get sick, so it’s important we clean thoroughly twice a day.” Ayla explained. “Our young Lady is so weak, that even walking exhausts her and she has to be escorted everywhere.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in shock. “How can that be? How does she live?”

The other girl shrugged, “No doctor knows, but this is why our job is so important. The Duke and Duchess travel often, but have to leave Lady Kagami here at the estate under our care. She is their only heir, so until we can secure her a marriage and a child of her own, our place in the palace will always be at risk.”

“What do you mean by that?” Marinette asked nervously.

“We may be palace maids, but in reality, we’re only Tsurugi maids. Unless we get higher positions or become _concubines_ ,” Ayla made a face. “Our job will always be at risk until Lady Kagami can secure her future. We all have to work to get her engaged as soon as possible.”

Marinette had so many questions racing through her mind and wanted to know more. Concubines? Helping facilitate an engagement? And what kind of girl could not eat, walk, or even be _exposed_ to sunlight and still be alive. Was this the life of a princess? Confined to her palace until she could be married off and produce an heir? The glamour of The Palace suddenly seemed to reflect the dreariness of this estate.

Ayla handed her a feather duster, “I’m assuming you’ve cleaned before.” she paused for a moment, and took that momentarily silence as confirmation. “Dust every last bit of the main entrance, then sweep and wipe down the area. Afterwards I’ll look at your work, and assign you another place to clean.

Left alone, the ebony hair teen gave the area one last look of awe, before beginning the process of cleaning. Everything she dusted felt so delicate beneath her fingertips, and she feared she would break it by mistake. With this being her first assignment, Marinette knew she had to have it done meticulously. She didn’t have time to sit and ponder, although she wanted nothing more than a moment to herself. 

Nevertheless, as she cleaned, the names Ayla had listed off echoed in her mind. Partially because she was trying to remember them, but also because something about them drew her in, more than just normal curiosity.

 _Tsurugi_ … the family she worked for. Kagami Tsurugi. The mysterious and sickly lady of the house.

 _Kubdel_. Marinette dusted a porcelain vase. Marinette wondered if her parents were alright.

 _Kurtzberg_. She remembered the rough fingers of the guards grazing her skin earlier. She wanted a bath, to wash away the memory. She wiped down a mirror.

_Lahiffe_. She wondered if she would be alright here. She dusted some more.

 _Rossi_. Was Ayla hinting at danger in The Palace? 

_Couffaine._ Marinette stopped dusting for a moment. 

She knew she had to be smart if she was going to make it here. But she didn’t even know where to begin. Staying low and avoiding trouble seemed like the best course of action.

“ _Agreste…_ ” she said softly.

It seemed like the best course of action, but Marinette wasn’t sure if avoiding trouble would even be her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling so hard to not just skip to the sinful stuff, ughhhh  
> Thank you for reading, and please keep supporting this story!! :))


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